


The Ritual He Had To Keep

by knightofdreams



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anderson being a little shit, Gen, Oh NOW, he's sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:15:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofdreams/pseuds/knightofdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing affected Anderson more than what had happened at St. Bart's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ritual He Had To Keep

**Author's Note:**

> So I didn't come up with this exactly on my own...there's a Facebook page called "One More Miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't. be. dead." (give 'em a like if you haven't) and they posted a drawing someone had did of Anderson crying over Sherlock's grave. And it kind of sparked this. Please and thank you guys. First thing ever posted here, so, *nervous laughter* be gentle? Hahaha

The path was well worn for Anderson now, seeing as he’d had plenty time to walk it. Three years, in fact, and he had come daily to see the fool. The horrible man, the raging psychotic man that had plagued him with trouble, he came to visit every day.  
He saw the familiar gravestone at the end of the path, and he stood in front of it, like he always did, awkward and hesitant.  
“Hello again.”  
Anderson ran a hand through his hair, and tried to laugh. “I thought I’d stop by and visit. Say hi, or summat.”   
The gravestone gave no reply. Anderson clenched his fist, and willed himself to continue speaking.  
“I spoke to John today. We’ve actually began somewhat of a friendship. I didn’t expect that. You probably didn’t either. We go to the pub every Thursday and talk. It’s really something and I think you’d enjoy it if...” you didn’t hate me, Anderson thought hollowly, if you weren’t dead.   
“He texts you too” Anderson said abruptly “John, that is. He seems to have it in his mind that you’ll answer back. The little bastard got me doing it too, and I don’t know, it’s comforting, but I know how you feel about emotions and all that.”  
A lump appeared in his throat, and he found it hard to swallow. “Uh” Anderson laughed, more awkward than before.  
“I’ve been here before. A lot, really. Right now you’d be saying something but my back stiffening as I left the car and my suspicious movements in my car and my not telling anyone.”  
The air was silent. There was no judgement. No sarcastic remarks floated on waves to insult Anderson. He felt his hands shaking.  
“What I wanted to say is I’m sorry.” It was out, and he knew it wasn’t going to stop until he was finished.  
“I’m sorry for calling you a psychopath. You aren’t one. You aren’t even a sociopath.”  
Anderson could feel tears gathering in his eyes, and he raised one shaking hand to wipe them away.  
“You really helped John, you selfish bastard. And now you’re gone. Do you see it, up there, or whatever? Do you see what you’ve done to him? To all of us? Sally couldn’t come into work because of you. Lestrade was taken off the force. He spends all his time drinking now and not wearing any shoes. John is even worse. Your landlady has taken to wearing black all the time. And John wears your scarf. He wears it. Does that do anything to you, YOU EMOTIONLESS BASTARD?!” Anderson screamed, catching a sob in his throat. He forced it back down, and shuddered.  
“All I want to say is I’m sorry. I’m sorry you couldn’t see it. I’m sorry for not giving you a chance. For calling you a freak, anything you wish, I’ll even say I’m sorry about your mum. If John is right and this is some stupid and cruel childish prank, come home Sherlock. And make this all right again.”  
Anderson let himself cry now, deep, painful sobs that hurt his chest and had him sinking to his knees, clutching his torso in a vain attempt to steady himself. After he stopped, he picked himself up, walked back the same familiar path, and drove away.  
So he could start the same ritual over again.


End file.
